Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This is blatantly obvious since Molly Weasley would be my last choice when choosing a character through which to channel Ellen Ripley.

A/N: Nope, no train ride and/or sorting yet. Just introducing the players a bit more and setting the scene, as it were, for the story arc coming up now. Until then, enjoy!

"The veil of death is not, as most others have stipulated, a portal to a parallel universe. Rather, it is a doorway to a dimension inside this universe, one where matter moves faster than the speed of light. When a person steps through the portal, they 'die' by virtue of no longer existing inside our normal set of dimensions. They get thrown, rather violently mind, out of the dimension at a random spot in time. There is a limit to this, however; one, the person is not guaranteed to survive the travel. Two, the spot in time HAS to be a time during which the Veil exists, not before, not after. Apart from that, anything else (person's clothing, equipment, location, magical ability, health) is completely random, with the veil traveler never emerging wearing what they went through the archway with. Truly, this fascinating discovery promises to shed new light on my research into the limits of magic. Could it be that magic actually transcends the physical limits imposed upon the rest of the universe?"

Unspeakable 'Enkidu', notes taken Thursday the [data expunged] during conference given by [data expunged] on the properties of [data expunged]. Code name Enkidu was deactivated the following day. Reason; walked through [data expunged].

Excerpt taken from [data expunged, gamma classification, eyes only]

Interlude: A year well spent

Stonewall Primary, October 21st 1990

Over the years, as Harry became an ever harder target to catch up with, Dudley and his gang of sycophants had switched to bullying the new children that came in at the beginning of the school year, often targeting the richest and fattest students for free food and lunch money. That changed two years ago, when Piers Polkiss led a breakaway faction of the gang and started targeting Dudley's followers for the money they'd scavenged off the younger years. Not out of any sense of altruism, mind you, just that Piers was fed up with being the guy doing all the work while Dudley berated him for his poor performance at catching the young and nimble firsties and taking all their stuff. Piers still kept the money and sweets, he just targeted other bullies instead of the kids directly.

His strategy was simple; let Dudley shake down the kids during morning break, then corner Alex Wantley, the gang's court jester and all-around coward, who would then point to who'd got the most money and where they would be hanging out come lunchtime. Come lunchtime, Piers would catch the lucky minion in the bathroom and steal the sweets and money from him while the rest of the gang harassed ickle Duddykins and his followers into distraction. Which would be followed by two weeks' worth of Dudley's gang travelling in pairs and attempting to be smart before they let their guard down again and Piers got lucky again. And it worked wonders, with Dudley's gang now targeting every kid younger than them in school, with only the extremely poor, the incredibly thin, those related to school staff and the legendary Untouchables escaping their clutches.

As for Dudley, he'd figured out what Piers was doing within months, thanks to some well-placed words with Mum and Dad. He'd had to frame it differently and become part of the business club (which promptly shut down after he'd spent a month attending) to keep his parents from realising what he was up to, but it had worked. A... talk with Alex about loyalty later and Piers went from being a potential rival to being a useful source of motivation for his gang as well as a tool that could be used to keep down potential challengers. Why, Dudley even arranged for a 'secret stash' to be discovered by Piers on the rare occasions that his followers behave themselves too well for too long. Wouldn't do for Dudders to lose such a valuable asset, now would it? However, as with most things in Dudley Dursley's life, his cousin and the beaver-faced wonder were about to muck things up for him again.

Christian Munroe, all of ten years old, was not what you would call a stupid boy. He knew that joining the local gang of bullies would get him two things; protection from said schoolyard bullies and more sweets. During the first few years of school, it hadn't seemed worth it really. He was far too thin and far too scrawny to be considered anything but prey to Dudley and his gang.

If anything, his tousled black hair precluded him from even applying, thanks to Dudley's little freak cousin's hairstyle. Still, this was a big school campus with plenty of places to hide, so Christian became intimately familiar with every nook and cranny too small for a Dudleyman to notice.

And then Piers had turned on Dudley two years ago, taking most of the gang's runners with him.

To be honest, Christian thought that the two would start fighting each other over territory and leave the other kids alone. That's what the gangs did over in the US, so why not in Surrey too? But it didn't happen. If anything, Dudley's gang started leaning on the kids more and more while Piers looked on from the sidelines. He remembered the girl in the grade below him, that year's top dog, trying to push into Dudley's turf with her own motley crew, only to have her gang taken over by Piers of all people!

Why did Piers not sit on the sidelines, like he normally did with his gang, before taking out Dudley and her at the same time? Why didn't he just ally himself with the girl and push Dudley out altogether? It had been a bitter blow to the younger bullies eyeing Dudley's turf, while the older ones looked on in wonder at the boy who'd turned a mutiny amongst his hangers-on into a strong organisation that worked almost seamlessly.

And then there'd been the recruitment drive. Both Dudley's boys and Pierce's boys started approaching others in their class, 'offering' membership to those they wanted in the gang. There were clear differences between the two; Dudley only accepted boys, for example. Piers 'tested' those that joined his gang with the intention of weeding out those that couldn't take what they gave others. Dudley favored 'big' kids, fat and large enough to deal with any resistance thrown his gang's way. Piers liked having runners, fast and vicious little blighters that ran circles around the larger bullies. Dudley needed a lot of manpower in order to harvest the younger kids' food and money while Piers needed only a few members that were good at what they did, good enough to take on those larger and more numerous than them and walk away with that group's money. Christian had looked at both, weighed the pros and cons of membership and decided to go for the brains. Dudley it was.

He laughed to himself, enjoying the irony of the situation. He'd joined Dudley because he reckoned Dudley was simply too smart to keep an enemy around that preyed on his gang members, and he'd been right. It was now clear to every gang member that Dudley could talk Piers into cornering those that had angered the Dursley kid, with the resulting beatings and money loss proving to be a major deterrent to anyone thinking about disobeying the King. And Christian had watched, listened and nodded when the King himself came down amongst his subjects, whispering to them about what the kid had done to deserve such a fate. And then gone right back to shaving a portion of his daily take off the top and stashing it in a small, shadowy corner of a disused janitor's closet. He'd amassed quite a stash too, with over a hundred pounds and a full jar of sweets to his name before one of Dudley's lieutenants found out.

Now he was running from Piers and his gang, trying to make it to the sports grounds before his pursuers caught up with him. No matter how dumb Piers was, even Polkiss would avoid tackling with the gangs in their final year just for some extra pocket money. If he could make it, the clearing surrounded by blackthorn bushes on all sides would provide ample cover. If he could make it, he could bury his stash and allow Piers to catch only a small amount of money, allowing him to take the rest home and enjoy it when the time was right. It all hinged on getting past the maths & history building before he could be cut off by Piers's runners.

"There you are!" Everard Benson shouted, somehow appearing a mere twenty metres in front of him. Damn! Christian thought. He was cut off. His only chance now was in the abandoned workshop building, vacated around the same time Chris had started classes here. The front door may be locked, but he knew for a fact that one of the windows on the ground floor around the back was open. It was risky, especially if there were any teachers grabbing a smoke around there, but if it was a choice between that and losing all of his hard-earned money, he'd take detention any day of the week. He turned left and legged it.

"Hey! Hey you guys!" Benson shouted, drawing everyone's attention to both himself and Piers. "He went that way!" Christian accelerated, passing a group of Dudleymen, his supposed friends, all looking at him with a smug smile on their faces. Bastards, he thought as he rounded a corner and almost got bowled over by a football player, you sodding bastards. There, he thought, his breathing getting heavier and heavier as he took a look at the abandoned building in front of him. Now where was that sodding window again-Ah! He ducked between two trees and disappeared around the back of the building.

He pushed the window around the back open and flung himself into an empty room. He had bought himself some time, but it wasn't enough if the sounds of his pursuers were anything to go by. He looked around, caught off-guard by the room he found himself in. Everything in the room was clean, cleaner than even the main buildings were! No peeling paint, no outdated fittings, even the light bulb on the ceiling looked brand new.

He could see the normally grime-covered ceiling fixtures clearly, the carving of leafy vines snaking around the room's corners, occasionally reaching down the wall and across the ceiling to where the light fixtures were. As he was admiring the recently cleaned blackboard adorning the far wall of the room, a silent pop echoed up and down the hallway just outside of the room. The door opened in front of him to reveal the very last person he wanted to meet in an abandoned building today standing there.

"Ah, Christian." His bushy-haired classmate exclaimed. "So it's you that we have to thank for all that racket outside?" she said, indicating the shuffling of locks and banging of doors as the Polkiss gang looked for a way in. He gulped as he caught sight of Dudley's diminutive cousin, silently eyeing him from the other side of the corridor. Snapping fingers drew his attention back to the Granger girl "I thought I had an arrangement with Dudley." he heard her say as she stared into his eyes, a penetrating glare pinning him into place. "So why do I find one of his lackeys spying on me now? Care to tell me, Chrissie-boy?"

He fought to catch his breath, "I-I am being ch-chased. P-piers's lads."

She smiled at him, a sinister chuckle coming from Potter's shadowy corner. "And so you decided to shake them by hiding out here? Without considering that others have lunch and do their homework here? Bad form Christian, bad form indeed. What would Dudley have to say to you, I wonder?" she stroked her chin as she stared at the frightened wannabe bully in front of her. "See, normally I wouldn't mind helping you, you know. Quite a number of kids come here to enjoy some quiet time when ickle Duddykins goes a-hunting. And do you know why, Christian?" The look she gave him sent shudders down his spine. "Because this is the freaks' corner. There are dozens of us here, trying to catch a small bit of peace between classes. More than double the number of goons in your pitiful gang come here to relax. If I really wanted to, me and Harry could take Dudley for everything he's got. So in exchange for being left alone, Dudley and Piers do not bother us. But now-"

She sighed, listening to the sudden silence coming from outside. There was a strange sort of twang noise in the air before he started hearing voices whispering.

" Look, the Boss said that we shouldn't go in there." Bertram Yorke, one of Piers's lieutenants said. "It's just too sodding dangerous."

"Look, I don't care!" Benson whispered. "That smug bastard stole from my sister! He's not getting away this time, alright?" Christian was amazed. How was he hearing this? They were on the outside! And whispering! How-

"You really should let it go for now, Evie." York said, a fearful lilt in his voice. "This is where the Untouchables hang out."

"Oh, come on!" Alice Vigsley, one of the main runners of the gang, whisper-shouted. "Dudley's freak cousin and his buck-toothed girlfriend?" She snorted. "They've got nothing on us." Benson made affirmative noises, leaving the eavesdroppers with the impression of a head nodding along with the positive grunting.

"Wrong, girl. They've got numbers on us." York re-affirmed. "The whole building's full of-"

"-Cowardly midgets." Benson interjected. "Look Bertie, this will be easy! Just break in, find the kid and break out. Who's going to challenge us, huh? "

"... Fine, but we'll need more people for this. Vigsley, go and round up the others and be back here in five minutes." York said, voice normal once again.

The girl bristled, growling sounds emanating from her throat. "Why should I do it? Why don't you go and do it?" She said, cracking her knuckles at the two boys.

York sighed. "First, I am still the boss here. Second, you are doing this because Benson just volunteered to scout us an opening while you're off gathering more of us, understood?"

"Yes, boss." Alice said, clearly not happy with how much of a pain in the ass her boss was being.

"Yes, boss." Evie said, his voice speculative.

"Then hop to it!" Two pairs of feet could be heard leaving the area. Chris heard that twang sound before silence filled the room again.

Hermione looked positively murderous as she stood there, thinking about what had been said. "Harry!" She barked, startling both Chris and Harry "Go get ready! Chris, go with him! We will finish our talk later!"

Harry bowed. "Yes, Ma'am." he turned to Chris "Come with me." He said, entering the room and pulling Christian along behind him "We still have much to do."

A full half of the Polkiss gang had assembled in front of the building after ten minutes. Vigsley had come back a few minutes earlier, a smug expression on her face as she looked at the building. York had gone and tracked down Polkiss, who was now talking with some of the founding members of the gang that'd turned up. York himself was eyeing the lookouts, ready to tell his subordinates to scram should a teacher or a prefect show themselves too early. And Benson was supposedly still looking for an entrance, but-

"Polkiss" a voice growled from a scant few inches behind Piers' back. "We had a deal." the leader flinched as he turned around. Behind him was Hermione Granger, teacher's pet and head Untouchable.

"Where did you come from?" The gang leader asked, shock and disbelief mingling as he wondered how this girl could have crossed 20-odd yards without alerting any of his goons.

The girl smirked. "Somewhere. Now-" she intoned, clearly not amused at finding him laying siege to her little study commune. "- honour your side of the deal and leave, please."

"I don't think so." the leader said. "I agreed that i'd leave your little club alone as long as you didn't interfere with my affairs. And now-" Piers smiled at her "- you've interfered." His lieutenants chuckled as they heard this. They'd wanted to have a go at the Den Of Dweebs for months now, the rumours of riches and sweets stashed inside surpassing any common sense the gang might have. Hermione's smile disappeared as she studied Piers.

"Are you breaking the deal, then?" she asked with a faux-sad voice. Silence fell as the two children eyed each other. Polkiss's smile had grown fake as he realised that she'd cornered him. But him and Dudley shared control over the gossip courts of the school, so Hermione couldn't really tell anyone that he'd welched on a deal. She snorted and looked up at the pale blue sky, realising that cornering him wasn't enough. "I see. Do you really want to do this, Piers?" She said, returning her gaze to the boy in front of her. "He came to us, not the other way around. He wasn't even aware we were there. We didn't break the deal at all." As you well know, you slimy git.

His smile finally fell as if he'd somehow heard the final, unsaid bit. "It doesn't matter. Give us the kid now and we'll leave." He bunched himself up. "Don't and we'll just come in and take him". He was looming over the bookworm, posture clearly threatening the girl with bodily harm should she not comply. Hermione lifted an eyebrow at the obvious 'gur! I am Conan the Caveman!' stance, clearly not impressed. Well, she sighed internally, so much for the easy way...

The girl laughed. "I don't think so, you stupid worm!" Piers lost his temper, his hand drawing back-

Hermione had had enough of this. These vandals had interrupted her and Harry's meditation-cum-lunch break, threatened a kid that had come to them for help (one of their own, too she remembered bitterly), broken an agreement she'd hammered out a mere twelve months ago and was now trying to push her around like a common brat. Piers went flying after being punched in the face.

Barnaby Wallace, the largest member of Piers's entourage, saw red as the girl went and decked his friend and leader right under his nose. He bellowed a challenge, lowered his head and tried to rugby-tackle beaver face. Unfortunately, Hermione could feel him coming, side-stepping the charging collossus and Force Punching him in the kidneys. She jumped to the side as three more gang members tried to snag her, one of them landing a glancing blow on her face before falling to the ground, screaming and cradling a broken wrist while the two others were sideswiped by the lanky girl. Meanwhile, the other gang members stared as the bossy little bookworm that spent most of her time either reading or doing homework laid waste to Piers's toughest and strongest, bullies that targeted other bullies. And she was smiling as she did so.

Hermione was indeed enjoying this, far more than she ought to. She and Harry had made it a habit to go all out when testing their skills against each other, either in producing a specific effect via Force manipulation or by sparring against each other. Though it was exciting, the only challenge provided was having to beat an opponent that knew all your moves and whose standard moves you knew by heart. From fighting to playing chess to Monopoly night, Harry and Hermione's play fights tended to end in a draw after hours of exhausting manoeuvring on both their parts which, though certainly educational and motivating, tended to make life a wee bit boring for the two of them.

So in a way, fighting normals was refreshing in a way Harry's spars, though fun, weren't. She ended up having to pull her punches more often than not. She was forced to avoid any overt uses of the Force. She was limited to standard muscular and reaction augmentations when engaging these targets, as any active scanning would draw attention to her. Sidestepping blows that haven't even been launched did tend to raise more questions than she felt comfortable answering. But God, had she wanted to punch a bunch of idiots who weren't Harry since reading up on that wizarding la-la-land! Of all the stupid, racist, bigoted fantasy settings she could find herself in-

She felt a shift in the force stream, dodging left as Alice's foot sailed through the space where her neck had been scant seconds before. She discretely summoned Vigsley's other leg, sending the tomboy sprawling as she jumped over Polkiss's attempted leg swipe. A follow-up punch to York's stomach sent the last of Piers's chief enforcers to the ground. Low moans could be heard coming from Wallace, a massive hand cradling a side of his stomach while he struggled to move away from the puddle of vomit he'd left behind after Hermione's little feint.

"Had enough yet?" the girl said, contempt obvious in her voice as she advanced on a cowering Piers. "Or do you want me to start on your other minions for you, Polkiss?" Pain engulfed her lower body, drawing out a moan as she felt her knees buckle under a surprise blow from behind. Evander stood over her, a wooden plank raised above his head and a fearsome look of triumph shining in his piggy little eyes.

"Goodnight, bucktooth." He whispered, bringing the wooden plank down with all his might. Hermione yelped, trying to roll out of the way of the blow. She almost made it, her shoulder taking the brunt of the attack as she finished her roll. "Hah! Got y-" he slumped over, blood coming from a wound in the back of his head. All of a sudden, pebbles started pelting the assembled children, too accurate and too quick for the normally nimble gang members to dodge. Those that were still standing crumbled under the invisible onslaught, the whole group peppered with stinging projectiles from every corner. Screams echoed around the courtyard, cries of pain intermingling with the shouts from the football pitch as Hermione tried standing up again.

"Whoa, easy there!" A voice said, catching the girl as she stumbled under the pain in the back of her legs. She looked up at her crutch and smiled. Chris had come to pick her up. "Man, I can't believe you did that!" He whispered as he dragged her back to the building. "Harry probably went bananas when he saw that kid nail you with a plank. Oh boy, Dudley is going to love this!" The pebble rain stopped as they reached the open doorway, the crying mass of about ten to twenty children lying on the ground not even bothering to stand as they nursed thumb-sized bruises and some wounds where a pebble had hit exposed flesh.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "You can come out now!" a muffled thump was heard as the little boy hit the floor in front of her. He was wearing his standard dark-deep purple school uniform with one of his many new hats sitting on his head. "And what were you doing up there, exactly?" she asked, extricating herself from Chris as the extra Force channel she'd been keeping open finished mending her bruises.

The boy pointed at a point in the wall halfway up. "See that fancy brick up there? It's a ventilation grill. Perfect vantage point for looking at what was happening outside."

She nodded. "So you could see what you were aiming at. Good work." Chris was looking at the stone grill, far too small for him to even try to look outside through it. What? He could see the whole thing just like that? Why didn't he use the window instead?

"I didn't just aim, you know." he huffed indignantly "I also needed line of sight on some of the others to stop them from assaulting you during your little jaunt." Her eyes widened at that and she went into instant lecture mode, opening her mouth when-

"But how?" Chris interrupted, drawing a furious glare that had Harry step back in dread. "I mean, you threw pebbles from this room? You stopped Piers's minions from beating your friend at the same time? Just how did you do that?"

Hermione grinned evilly at the cowardly bully in front of her. "I think it's time for that talk we promised earlier." She reached out through the Force stream, her layered tendril of coherent Force energy whipping around his spine and painfully constricting it. "Think i've forgotten you, Chris? How you used to try and steal Harry's lunch money? How your presence makes some of the younger girls cry? You evil meanie..." She hissed. Even though he was screaming, even though she had moved across the room to Harry's side, he heard every single word she said as if she'd screamed them in his ear.

Her Force grip tightened slightly around his tailbone, the added pressure making him feel like his lower abdomen was on fire. He fell to the ground, desperately trying not to piss himself in fear. "To answer your question." A cold, cold voice came from somewhere. "We have access to the Force. We use it to look after those who have no friends. Those who have no big brothers or siblings. Those who have nobody else. Those you, you pathetic hssss-hsshsshh, have bullied and beaten for years." Something very, very cold grabbed his armpits despite his being curled into a foetal ball on the floor, the agonising fire still burning on his back and leaving him to wonder about whether there would be blisters there tomorrow. It heaved him up, forcing him out of his stance on the floor and onto his feet. The burning stopped, but something icy cold settled over him, holding him in place. His eyes opened despite his attempts at keeping them closed. A pair of green eyes studied the boy "Remember me, Munroe? I asked you to keep my hiding places a secret. Only you knew where me and Hermione went to after lunch for meditation. Nobody else in this school knew but you. I trusted you. You were just like me back then, just looking for a friend to talk to and hang out with away from the bullies. But then you found lots of friends, didn't you? And you told all your new friends about this awesome little spot on the roof of the gym!" A bitter smile crossed the little boy's face as something very, very scary shone in those green eyes. "Dudley really liked that, didn't he Chris? He still hunted me back then, you know. Me and Hermione, actually, when he was bored. And the only time in two years that he catches us is a week after you join his gang."

The cold feeling started to heat up, Chris getting uncomfortable as his body temperature passed that of the room around him. "P-please. Please." he whimpered as he felt fear at the sight of the two people he'd betrayed. "I helped her come back here."

"Yes, you did. Thank you," Hermione's voice said "for saving me from a situation you got me into in the first place." She stepped up to the boy trying to cower whilst embedded in Stasis binding. "You owe us. We saved you, despite your betrayal. And I plan on getting the most out of you, understand?" The boy opened his mouth, winced as his skin felt like it was starting to burn again and resorted to nodding instead. "Perfect. Now, we have a number of things we want to do after school this year. Unfortunately, we don't have the time to come here and manage the Freak's corner while we do it. You, on the other hand, do have time. Well, you and Benson. So you two are going to manage the Freak's corner for us. You will clean the place during breaks, make sure the library is kept decent and help any of the younger kids that come up to you. Is. That. Clear."

She jabbed him in the ribs at the last word, making him cry out in pain. "Yes!" he said, eyes wildly darting between the two monsters. "I will do it, I promise!" An eerie white glow hung over him for a second as he felt... something settle in the back of his mind.

"Good." Hermione said. "Thank you for promising that to us. Now, to answer your question, we are... something like the Jedi. We are good, there are a few of us around and we don't like bad people like you. We hurt bad people like you, Chris, especially traitors. So" and she stared him straight in the eye, her stare one of hatred and sadistic anticipation at a faux-pas on his part. "this time, you will keep our secrets. Tell no-one of this and you will be left alone."

"But what if it slips out? I-i'm not very good with secrets..." he hung his head, wincing at the snickers he heard coming from Harry. He heard that twang noise again, giving way to moans and screams coming from... somewhere. Hermione went pale at hearing the groans and pleas for mercy she heard. Twang. The sound was gone.

"Harry. Apprentice." Hermione whispered. "what did you do to him?" She was looking at her friend with what, in Chris's experience, looked like disgust and horror. "Those weren't normal screams, Harry..."

"He's fine" Harry said, smirking at the other two's expressions. "I just mind-tricked him into thinking he'd broken his bones going through the back window. Apparently, he thinks he's broken all of them..." Hermione heaved a sigh of relief, clearly thankful that her friend hadn't actually committed murder while Chris went green at that kind of power directed against him. "You see Chris, that's what we do to bad people like bullies and traitors. They suffer, but there is no proof that they are suffering. Them and their abnormal, freakish behaviour... They are punished like the bad freaks they are. I am a good freak that uses his power to help those that teachers can't help. They are bad freaks that hurt others when grown-ups aren't looking. It's because of them that freaks like us" he pointed at himself and Hermione "must hide." Us, and all the so-called 'wizards' and 'witches'. What are they hiding from?

"Harry," she sniffed at the boy, indicating her offence at the words "stop it. For the last time, we are not freaks, we are force wielders! We are nothing like the bullies, so stop making it sound like we are equal to them. If we are freaks, then they are bugs." She sniffed, bristling at the unintended insult coming from her apprentice. "Get it right."

"Sorry Master, it's just easier to explain this way." He said, smiling placatingly at her. "Now Chris, do you want to be a good freak? Or do you want to join Everard and be a bad freak?" he asked, turning to face the cowering boy.

"I-I'll keep your secrets! Promise!" Once again, the glow came and went.

Hermione beamed at him, her eyes being ever so much sharper than the smile she showed him. "Excellent! Now, can you go and look after Benson? Me and Harry still have some work to do before classes start." The binding released him, causing him to trip and stumble to the ground. As he got up and left the room, the boy couldn't help but shudder at the way the two followed his departure with their eyes closed.

December 16th 1990, somewhere in the Scottish Highlands

A good-looking young man sat across from an old, old man in an antiquated office in a scottish tower. The décor looked like something a renaissance man would dream up, full with gadgets, gizmos, physically manifested pipe dreams and whatnots. About the only thing in the office that wasn't engaged in the process of trying to distract the two older men also happened to be the only other living creature in the room. On his perch, a rather odd-looking bird was catching a nap, no doubt dreaming of hunting its favourite food (caramel and sesame seed snitches) in the mountains around the castle. Nevertheless, despite not trying to distract the two men, the bird still succeeded admirably. Who knew that phoenixes snored?

"Albus" the young man in a well-appointed visitor's chair/recliner combo said "why did you decide to contact me again after all these years?"

"Nicholas" Albus said "tell me, do you think Gringotts is the safest place for you to keep that stone of yours?" Nicholas glared balefully at the older-looking man, a man who was a quarter Nicholas's own age thanks to 'that stone' Albus was referring to.

Flamel sat up straight in his comfortable chair. "Yes Albus," the man said "I do. The Goblins have kept my creation safe for over four hundred years from close to a thousand separate attempts to steal it."

Albus sighed, he really didn't want to say too much yet, but... "And how many Dark Lords have tried to steal it from you?"

"Three" came the prompt reply. "The first one was Betelgeuse Black, the second was Wu-Jian Chang and the third was none other than Adalbert Bonaparte, self-proclaimed Dark King of France."

Nicholas relaxed a tad into his chair while Albus leaned forward. "Next year, there is going to be a fourth one trying for it." Nicholas waved for him to continue, clearly not caring about this new threat. "Tom Riddle."

Flamel laughed at him. "Riddle? The wraith without a body? And how, pray tell, is a disembodied spirit going to get through the protections on my vault?"

Dumbledore smiled at his one-time mentor. "Why, in the same way I did, I believe" he said, pointing at a corner of the room. In that corner, a table supported a small pensieve against which leant a small, blood-red stone. "Care to see how, old friend?"

December 26th 1990, Surrey

Harry sat in his cupboard under the stairs, mentally revising the special sequence of Mind Tricks he had used on his relatives yesterday night during dinner time for any possible mistakes. His Force connections gave him a massive advantage in power over Hermione, though he still struggled with trying to focus on them and on whatever he was supposed to be doing. This resulted in him sitting in his cupboard and running through every specific command he'd implanted into the Dursley's brains.

Because focus was a problem, he'd realised early November. Wands were really great, extremely useful and proving to be a fun research project for the duo. Though relying on them was a prospect that still disgusted both children, channelling the refined Force stream stored in their bodies allowed them to research how these wands manipulated the Force. And it was an eye opener. The wand would use some of the Force Stream to 'awaken' itself and tap into the normal connection every Force Wielder possessed. It would then extend tendril feeds into the stored Force container, siphoning off however much of it the wand needed. The way the wand connected to its user was breathtaking, a cross between a rainbow and a Laser following the user's bodily contours to the end point, where all the streams merged into one massive ball, invisible to the naked eye. However, any time the two attempted to bypass the internal stores and make the wand access the Force Stream directly, either nothing would happen or the ends of the wand would start belching smoke. So they were trapped with using their normal techniques to access the Force streams they needed to continue their original training, only now they were using it to try and produce Force tendrils that worked the way wands did.

Those so-called spells were actually small balls of directed energy wrapped in a bubble of what looked like tiny tiny strings made up of strange symbols. After the proper noises and movements are made, the wand releases the ball, which travels quickly towards the intended target and bursts the bubble on arrival. The two wondered if what they were seeing meant that the Force was encased in the container that would tell the spell how to behave when the bubble burst, directing the energy to behave in a specific manner, but had no real way to check it out. But if they could make Force tendrils that could channel and shape the Force into a focused beam and then throw the result at enemies, then this could be all worthwhile. Neither thought they could ever truly replicate the Ball instruction-type thing yet, not without a much better understanding of how it all worked. It simply required far too much focus and concentration on what they were doing, something they couldn't even do whilst meditating. But the research still came in very handy at times.

The Dursley's Mind Tricking had been the trial run for the Force Lasering ability he'd been gunning for since Diagon Alley, using just one Force connection to hit every single Dursley individually. He had done it from across the room, whilst doing something else and without making eye contact or even facing his targets. If the test succeeded, he would be able to Displace to Hermione's side without meeting Marge, Piers or Figg's psycho cat brigade today. If it didn't, he would have to spend about five minutes re-implanting his commands using the traditional method before escaping the other members of his top ten people to avoid. Hermione would be disappointed that he hadn't succeeded, probably muttering something about apprentices, but his Christmas gift of true life wizarding adventure books by some lady dressed as a man calling herself Gilderoy Lockhart would appease the peeved girl before she anti-ranted at him (sad face, lying about forgiving his/her incompetence and displaying watery eyes at the intended target). Anyway-

A dull rumble could be heard coming from the bedrooms. Doors opened, the yawning of the hinges covering the yawns of their occupants as they stared at their house's fixtures and blinked the sleep away. Slowly, a series of heavy THUNKS got louder as the two behemoths and the shrew stomped their way downstairs. Harry started sitting up, already dressed in his finest clothing for the day. The cupboard door opened. Uncle Vernon looked down upon him from outside, his face briefly cycling through a set of interesting colours before his angry look turned into a confused one and his complexion returned to normal. He smiled at the boy. Harry smiled back. It worked. A muffled crack could be heard as the boy disappeared without saying a word.

March 5th 1991, London

Mundungus Fletcher woke up in St. Mungo's hospital, a frown on his face as he looked around himself. He paled. To his left lay Frank and Alice Longbottom, both staring serenely at the ceiling as they ate orange peels. To his right, Coralie Bonaventure screamed silently, the blood vessels on her exposed flesh still smoking from the permanent blood-boiling curse she'd caught in India. Dung shuddered. How long had he been out to end up in the permanent spell-damage ward? Was he still young? Were his friends and acquaintances still alive and willing to cut him some slack for late payment? Oh Morgana, Lupin's Wolfsbane fix... How was he going to explain this? Wait...

"Mr. Fletcher?" He startled, finally registering the fact that a hot-looking Healer woman was staring at him. "We found you in a magical healing coma on January the 2nd. You were suffering from Veritaserum overdose, and given how long you've been under, it was a near-lethal dose you took. Do you remember anything, Mr. Fletcher?"

"Yes" he said, not caring about her bedside manner as much as he normally would have. Veritaserum. And i'm not in Az, so that means... Oh no. "Err, miss healer-lady-" he said, leaving the implied question to hang around and kick cans.

"-Tonks"

"Right. Healer Tonks, can you contact Albus Dumbledore for me, please? " At her nod, he continued. "Tell him... Well, tell him that 'the snake has taken an interest in Geology'."

Healer Tonks laughed at him. "What? If I didn't know any better, I would have called you Maxwell Smart for that"

"Maxwell who?"

"Nothing, don't worry. I'll just go make that call before CHAOS agents get here, shall I?" She said, ambling off with shaking shoulders.

"Who?" He repeated to himself, adding finding out who this Maxwell Smart was to his growing list of things to look out for. And adding Healer's terrible bedside manners to his list of pet peeves. That was, by far, the longest of his many, many lists...

July 31st, 1991, London

Harry fidgeted nervously, his hands holding a thick envelope with a broken wax seal adorning it. He finally had the invitation letter to Hogwarts in his hands, still relishing the feeling it gave him even after two weeks of frequent handling. After sending a confirmation letter by remote Displacement which, strangely enough, hadn't caused anything to violently explode on either end this time around, another owl had arrived giving the time and date for his escort to Diagon Alley.

He didn't mind getting an adult as escort, as both he and Hermione had made monthly trips since last September to stock up on more reading material as soon as they ran out and they always had to be back within two hours lest they miss class or arouse Sarah's suspicion. This way, he was sure to get at least five hours of book shopping done before he had to leave again, though he would be forced to dial down his Force sensitivity if he did do that. Seeing massive amounts of the Force was blinding if you couldn't adjust Force Sight correctly but you could still use your eyes afterwards. But having your Force senses overwhelmed for prolonged periods of time was bad for your health. He'd lost more than one connection when, on occasion, his senses would be overwhelmed by a Force Stream he'd underestimated with his Force Senses and Sight dialled up to maximum. But more than two hours worth of browsing the book store was well worth the risk of keeling over to the young Force wielder, so he wrote down the meeting location and remotely Displaced the message again. Though the message had survived the attempt, Harry's eyebrows didn't. Neither did much else in the room that wasn't Harry.

A man sat across from him, his bulk straining the structural integrity maintenance charm on the chair. He had a massive, unkempt beard, beetle black eyes, a massive head and the cutest, most innocent frown he'd ever seen on something that huge.

"Tell me," the massive man asked. "Do yeh know where I can find a boy? About yay high" he said, holding a hand barely higher than the table "with black, messy hair and green eyes?"

"Why yes, yes I can." The boy said, reverting his hair and eye color back to normal. "And I am taller than that, thank you very much!" the boy mock-huffed, smiling to take the edge off his voice.

"Harry! It is yer! Why, ye've grown, ye have. Yer mother's eyes, too. Bloody hell lad!" the man said, leaning over the table and hugging the child. Harry stiffened, slightly alarmed by the man's reaction towards the boy. "Ah, sorry 'bout that. Me name's Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid. Reckon yeh'll have plenty of time ter tell me how Pettie and that oversized hinkypunk she married're doin'?"

"Wait, you know them?" Harry asked, dumbfounded as to what circumstances would have to arise before Petunia and Vernon would meet a 'wizard' for long enough to talk. Privately, he thought that alcohol, Monopoly and far too much sugar had played a role in this somehow. "Did you also know my parents?"

Hagrid chuckled at the eager little boy in front of him, reminded about how another messy-haired Potter had been friends with him not that long ago alongside that pair of green eyes nobody could truly look away from. "Quite a bit, dont'cherknow. Yer Da was always one fer detentions, and 'e served a fair few of 'em with me. And yer ma, she liked me tea, she did." His eyes watered at the fond memories of true friendship ending too soon. "Nobody else every says so."

"Let me try some!" Harry said smiling at the giant of a man. "I'm sure i'll like it, too!"

"Heheh, sure, but only when yer're safe 'n sound at Hogwarts, a'right?" The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. Today, he though, is going to be a great day!

August 1st, 1991

"Morning Hermione!"

"Harry?" The soon-to-be-teenager questioned, clearly wondering why her friend was in her room at (she checked her alarm clock) some ungodly hour in the morning...

"Because I bring two gifts, o dear Master ma'am!" He said, clearly enjoying the flat glare the girl was giving him through a curtain of frizzy bed hair. "First, Wizarding Coffe!" he shouted, shoving a mug proclaiming itself to be 'Offendi's finest; heaviest blend available, comes with 5 instant refills! Drink yourself intelligent now!' "Aand Books!" he pointed at a massive pile of wizarding books lying in the middle of her bedroom floor. "Lotsalotsalotsa Books! Come on, Hermione! Let's get started!"

Absolute silence descended as Harry's caffeine-infused conscience finally registered the fact that Hermione, who was never really a morning person, had just been woken up at 5 in the morning by her best friend-turned-maniac for a spot of impromptu studying. Of course, the tsunami of frustrated anger having pushed her Force Barrier (which wizards called 'aura' for some strange reason) into the visible spectrum was a clue that was kind of hard to miss...

"Harry." the witch said, her blank face betraying nothing about the absolute fury she was currently feeling. "Get. Out."

When Harry came to a few hours later, he was in the Granger's back yard. From what he could remember through the caffeine-induced hallucinatory haze was that Hermione's anger and Force-infused command had directed her Force Barrier to lash out, throwing him through Hermione's room's window and repairing it after he passed through. His Stasis shield had barely gone up in time, but the force of the impact with the ground still knocked him out. He opened his eyes. "Her-Hermione? What happened?" She looked down at him, a glowing beetle-like creature sitting on her shoulder. Her flat look was still the same as it was last night, though the fuzzy memories did make it hard for him to figure out why she held that look. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Apprentice" she said, perched over his prone body. "I am going to teach you something I should have a long time ago" her smile did little to reassure the lad. "Never, ever, wake me up that early ever again. Is that clear?" He nodded at her. "Good. Now, how did your trip to Diagon go?"

"Does this mean you're not mad at me?"

She looked at him, surprised. "No, it means that I want to hear about your trip to Diagon first. Then, we will see, Harry. We will see." Needless to say, it was the most detailed account of a visit to the wizarding world Harry had ever given. In fact, it was the most detailed account he'd ever given, full stop...

Far away, an elderly man sat at a table in his old home, enjoying the kind of silence only desolation could bring. Rotting furniture was everywhere, everyday items last used long ago was sitting where it was left. A small mountain of mould was perched on the main table, evidence of a supper interrupted by something that had caused the residents to leave rather hastily. Dark splotches could be seen through the dust, the dark red still shiny after so long spent on the tiled floor. There were many memories here, enough to drive ordinary wizards insane. But that was no problem for this man. After all, he was crazy to come back here in the first place. Who cares about some measly memories, inserted into the brain to drive their new owners around the twist, when the memories themselves would have to twist themselves out of shape to fit in his head anyway? The man smiled, enjoying the silence through which he could still hold onto the last vestiges of his sanity. The roar of an engine outside alerted him that his ride was there.

The smile turned into a vicious grimace, amusement changing to nervous excitement and anger the likes of which the figure hasn't felt in well-on nigh fifty years. "Soon, Albus." the figure croaked. "Soon I shall have it. Your wand is mine. On this, I swear" the oath took effect, blinding the man's eyes, unused to unnatural light after so long spent in a cell with only a window for illumination. He walked out the door, closing it behind him. The car engine roared to life once again, speeding away from the derelict building. Two minutes before midnight, the building exploded in a wave of debris and light blue fire. No noise was made.

A/N: So this is a long-ish interlude chapter, with the actual story starting next chapter. Harry-centric, will be Hermione-centric next, what with train rides and sortings... Hey, what do you think would happen if a person were to rip the veil off the Veil of Death archway and show what goes on underneath?

Oh, and Mr Crazy Mysterious Person? Remember the rule that says that, for every increase in power given to the protagonist, you need to give a proportionate increase in power to the bad guy? Give Frodo a light saber, you give Sauron a Death Star kinda deal? Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, since Harry will not be alone, Hermione will have to face her own nemesis. Not only that, but both enemies will be proportionately more cunning and powerful than in canon, which means that Voldemort gets two brain cells to rub together instead of one. Imagine that...

But yeah, Mister Mysterious is another Big Bad that the duo will have to deal with... I know who I want to put there, but if you have any suggestions for who you want the evil dude to be, just put it in your review. It can be whoever you want, even a time travelling version of a protagonist, so knock yourself out! If your idea is cooler than mine, you get your wish. Oh, and it can also be a male version of a female protagonist too, since this is a jury-rigged version of time travel that skips dimensions to the right point in time rather than go back the same timeline...